Jareth the Man
by Amazonian21
Summary: When the being you think you know is really a man you don't. COMPLETE.


Okay, here's a little twist for you. I wrote this at five a.m. with no sleep at all. So bear that in mind as you read it.

**Boogity******

Jareth the Real.

Jareth flew away from the window sill on heavy wings, the taste of defeat and despair fresh in his mouth. He flew troubled and weighed down by his disappointment and anger while below him a young girl partied with her friends, celebrating his downfall.

His whole world had come crashing down around his head, all because of one young, inexperienced girl.

It should never have happened.

Jareth was the king of the goblins! He was the monarch of a mighty land and ruler of a wily, magical labyrinth, the same labyrinth that Sarah had so effortlessly conquered. He was handsome, debonair, mysterious, sensuous, powerful, and evil. He was in control of all he surveyed. He was master of wit and subterfuge. There was nothing that he could not manipulate to his own purposes. His virtues were too numerous to list.

And yet, for all of that, in less than thirteen hours one girl had undone all he'd accomplished over the course of millennia.

He should have sensed that something was amiss the second he answered her call. There had been a current in the air, some sort of electricity that caused him to swagger a little more than usual, adopt an even more arrogant attitude and a more imposing posture. He felt the need to intimidate this opponent, to show himself in all his glory right from the beginning, as if shouting at a fellow warrior to unnerve them. It hadn't worked. She'd accepted his challenge with an innate confidence that had him worried so much that when he said, 'What a pity,' he was almost speaking about himself

Sarah had been a force to reckon with. He fought her with riddles but that did no good. His wit was nothing next to her luck and instinct. He fought with betrayal but she won loyalty wherever she went. He fought by cheating but even that gave him no advantage. He tried his charms and attempted a seduction but all his efforts were lost in the face of her innocence. He tempted her with material comforts and childhood memories, empty promises that were all little more than trashy trinkets, but she sidestepped his paltry and weak games. She had an epiphany that transcended his scheming and called the items by their proper title. She labeled them junk, and escaped him once again. In a desperate and last ditch effort he tried physical restraint, but his ridiculous and inept goblin forces weren't enough to stop her and her loyal followers. Their bumblings had been amusing when it made them something to control, something to further his superiority complex, but in this situation it was devastating. She made it to the castle.

Utterly exhausted and more than a little confused, Jareth prepared for the ultimate showdown. He tried to defeat her with will and frustrations, trapping her in his strongest riddle. But even then, even when everything was stacked against her, his nemesis once again defeated him.

Utterly broken and desperate, Jareth tried the last thing he could think of to win. He begged. He offered everything he could think of offering. He promised the stars, he promised time, he promised dreams, he promised himself. It was impossible and unreal, but there was the chance that she wouldn't know that. There was the chance that she would accept and allow him to win. Then things could continue as they ever were. Jareth would still be king of the goblins. Jareth would still be the supreme ruler of the world he had created.

But she refused. She turned down his empty words, she denied his power. With her right words she demolished everything that he'd built up with his hopes and thoughts. She warped and changed him, just as she warped and changed the labyrinth into broken pieces, disassembled and waiting to be rebuilt into something stronger, something more real and less conceited.

And so the mighty king, humbled now and unable to continue in his charade any longer, was forced to admit that he wasn't all he told himself he was. He wasn't a supreme being. He wasn't unstoppable. There were limits to his greatness in all areas, and he had run up against each and every one of them. He was drawn a road map of his boundaries, and it was imprinted upon his soul.

He flew away from the victory dance going on below him. He soared across time, soared across space. He crossed oceans and lakes, valleys and rivers, to a new town, a new scene, a new reality. He closed his wings and flew to a new window in a fancy house, the window to the bedroom of a very self important human man.

He landed on the sill and melted through the glass, flowing through it effortlessly like water, like mist, like a dream. He drifted across this new bedroom and perched on the corner of a different bed, a bed where a man with white blond hair lay dreaming of his fantasy life of power and supremacy, the nightly personification of his waking beliefs.

Jareth the owl broke up into his elementary particles. He split apart to units smaller than cells, little more than atoms, each carrying the memory of his defeat and the lessons he'd learned that night in his fallible kingdom. The owl mist descended upon Jareth the man, Jareth the prick manager in the top law firm, Jareth the British import who saw himself as king of the work force, king of the interoffice affair, king of the capitalism dream. The owl mist infiltrated the Jareth man's flesh and seeped into his blood stream. It flowed through his veins and became one with him.

And in the morning a new Jareth awoke. Jareth the humbled, Jareth the respectful and courteous, Jareth the man who was aware of his limitations. His nighttime voyages to the Labyrinth changed him for the better, creating a human from the self described deity.

The Labyrinth had done its job, once again trying and testing those who encountered it, straining their wits and resources, ultimately breaking them down to rebuild something stronger. The Labyrinth was content, and rested as it watched its pretend king go about his real life, attempting to be a real man.

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A little shout out to my E.S.T.E.E.M. comrades. You guys rock. I should do thanks here for reviews to other stories, because the ones that are complete won't get thanks otherwise, but it is 5:30 in the morning, so I'll pass. I'll make up for it with super pimpings in Nephillim's next chapter, coming soon, I swear! Thanks to those who review, it makes me glow like some sort of nineties child's toy.


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